


The Woman from White Willow

by Sharkyofthesea



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book-Loving Lesbians, Elizabeth out here giving good advice, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay, I know that british people spell things differently but I'm american, I'm Sorry Jane Austen, Jane is worried for her little sister, Lydia is as insufferable as always, Mary deserved better, Mr. Collins can suck it, Mr. Darcy is an overprotective older brother, Mrs. Bennet dies in the first paragraph, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Semi-Slow Burn, So sue me, We read this in english class and I just couldn't stop myself, mary marries her fave author, not beta read we die like men, slight homophobia, so I gave her a wife, the regency era was wild, this is not what you intended, trying my best to write like jane austen did but it's not really happening, who writes books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharkyofthesea/pseuds/Sharkyofthesea
Summary: After the death of her mother, Mary Bennet felt no real need to present herself in society. She spends all her time deep inside Longbourn, paging through books.This all changes when she meets her favorite author, A. Brinsbooke. Through this friendship, she begins to question herself and discover what love really is.





	1. Mary Finds a Book

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place 2 years after Darcy and Elizabeth are married. 
> 
> Please forgive any historical or literary inaccuracies, I am a teenager doing my best to write like Jane Austen using my limited knowledge of the Regency era. 
> 
> I am terrible at summaries.

With three out of four of her sisters married and the fourth one to be engaged, Mary Bennet had supposed herself to be a certain kind of black sheep in the family. Not that she was entirely unused to that position, recalling many a poor instrumental performance, but it was especially embarrassing to be the only failure of the sole mission that so engrossed the mind of her mother. The sudden marriages of Jane, Lizzie, and Lydia caused enough excitement to pacify the schemes of Mrs. Bennet for at least half a year. She slowly returned to her matchmaking duties, although certainly with less fervor than before, and began to seek out young men for her two remaining daughters to marry. Unfortunately, a particularly bad fall caused an abrupt end to the matrimonial plans of Mrs. Bennet. Unable to even walk, the poor woman wasted away, bedstricken, for weeks before passing on peacefully in the night.

The funeral was as extravagant as one would expect it to be for the mother-in-law of such prosperous young men. Mr. Bennet suffered a great deal, and became more reclusive than he had ever been previously. The entire Bennet household was overtaken by the sadness of their mother's death, and it was only the sudden joy of Kitty's recent engagement that dissipated the aforementioned sorrow.

While Kitty had been lectured many a time by her brother-in-law Mr. Darcy to avoid the company of the militia as to not cause a scandal that would push her father over the edge, her lovely features had unknowingly caught the eye of a young militant, Colonel Hopkins. Kitty had since matured over the years, and at first avoided the young man, passing his fancy off as an attempt similar to that of her own sister Lydia's husband. Hopkins, a man of no small fortune as it happened, was adamant in his affections, and after being thoroughly dogged by Mr. Darcy, was given permission to properly court Kitty. He succeeded in capturing the young girl's heart and the two were engaged, leaving Mary as the last unmarried Bennet daughter.

With the relocation of her sisters and the absent nature of her father, Mary often spent days wandering the Bennet estate, passing the time by voraciously devouring any book she could get her hands on. In her fervor, she even resorted to the fiction sections of Longbourn’s shelves, a genre that she had previously considered foolish and common. The days melded into one another, only occasionally being interrupted by a letter or perhaps a visit from one of her sisters.

Mary herself had also matured quite a bit since the death of her mother, becoming more self-aware of her pedantic actions from the past. She cringed to think of how intelligent she supposed she was at the simple age of 18. How foolish to think that a young girl such as herself would hold the knowledge to be considered a moral superior to her peers! Humility was an asset the previous version of herself had failed to gain from any kind of study. Mary's face colored at the memory of her many judgemental condemnations on the actions of others when she herself barely understood the subject. 

The fact that Mary had yet to even express interest in anything outside her sacred palace of solitude, let alone a gentleman for marriage, was a small concern for her sisters, but mostly Jane, who was unable to feel anything but compassion towards her poor, unmarried sister. Mary, on the other hand, felt no need to present herself in society or even entertain the thought of a husband. On one of Jane's many worried visits to Longbourn, she inquired on how Mary imagined getting along in life after the inevitable passing of her father. Mary responded, “Perhaps I shall become a writer of novels, since I do enjoy them so much I think I am surely qualified to write one.” This response troubled Jane, but she reasoned that as long as Mary was happy in her chosen path, it did not seem like something with which Jane should involve herself.

Mary consumed every book Longbourn contained, and, unsatisfied, had no other choice but to venture into the town in search of more literary material. During her first visits, she restricted herself to only perusing the classics, but it was not long before Mary found her interests piqued by a particularly intriguing contemporary novel titled _The Buccaneeress._ When her curiosity could not be satiated any longer, Mary purchased the book and found herself utterly enraptured by the story it hid between its comparably simple appearance. It told the scandalous tale of a mysterious pirate woman and her escapades exploring the high seas, robbing any unsuspecting nobles that should so happen to sail by her ship. Mary completed the story before even a week had passed. Wishing to find more of such fantastic stories, she searched for other works by the same author, who was credited as simply “Brinsbooke.”

The town bookstore provided her with two other past works by the elusive author, _The Plague_ and _The Spinning Wheel_ . Much to Mary's dismay, these stories lacked the lighthearted fantasy that _The Buccaneeress_ contained, but they were nevertheless extremely enjoyable.

When she no longer found access to alternative Brinsbooke material, Mary resorted to writing to her older sisters in hopes that they would be able to find copies of other Brinsbooke books. Elizabeth personally delivered a copy of a fourth Brinsbooke book, _The Englishman_ , along with a collection of Eliza's favorite books as consolation for her failure to expand the collection of her sister's author of choice by much. _The Englishman_ was thoroughly disappointing in Mary's perspective, although she still considered it better than any of the other books Elizabeth provided. Mary's admiration for Brinsbooke was scarcely shaken.

Jane, while not providing any books, presented a much more exciting offer in her response to Mary. 

_Dearest sister,_

_While I myself have not heard of such an author as Brinsbooke, I did perchance mention it to Mr. Bingley, as I have known him to have many a strange connection. He told me that he does know a Mr. Brinsbooke, and is willing to meet with him to see if he is your beloved author. I do hope that you may be introduced at some point._

_\- Jane_

“Oh Jane, you wonderful saint!” Mary exclaimed."Oh if I should have any sense, I would marry this man on the spot!"

Mary awaited the day that she should meet the mysterious author. She spoke of it to Jane, who seemed happy that Brinsbooke had awakened Mary's passion for marriage.

"I'm sure he will find you very pleasant," Jane said, "Authors, and men, appreciate a discussion of topics they find interesting, especially if they are said topic."

"I could talk for hours about these stories," Mary gushed. Surely Mr. Brinsbooke would be gladly to discuss his writing with such an eager reader. So Mary read every Brinsbooke book she owned, and wrote down possible discussion points. Now all that there was to do was wait for the fated gentleman to arrive.


	2. Mary Meets the Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary finally gets to meet her favorite author, the mysterious Brinsbooke.
> 
> Things turn out a little different than expected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um yeah, sorry this took so long... there was really no reason for it to take like 3 months.
> 
> But thanks for being patient! Hope you enjoy.

When the day of meeting arrived, Mary could barely contain her excitement. She reminded herself to keep composure; it would be rather improper to act so familiar with a man after just being introduced. However, Mary felt that as a side effect of her constant obsession she was very acquainted with Brinsbooke, although he would most likely not feel the same way. Jane and Mary were in a spare room, waiting for Mr. Bingley to come in and introduce Mr. Brinsbooke. When he was finally brought in, Mary nearly leapt out of her chair, but instead managed to calmly stand up and give a curtsy.

Mr. Bingley introduced the two of them, allowing Mary to converse freely with the gentleman. He seemed quite a bit older than Mary, and perhaps even Jane, but Mary felt she would be willing to marry him if not solely for his brilliantly creative mind. This was, of course, assuming Mr. Brinsbooke would be willing to marry her.

Except, when she tried to bring up sections of her discussion notes, Mr. Brinsbooke seemed confused as to why she would bring up that particular topic. Mary asked him to clarify his meaning.

“My lady, it is simply that I did not write these books that you love so dearly.” Mary was astounded, the books were clearly emblazoned with the name _Brinsbooke_. Mr. Brinsbooke let out a loud, boisterous laugh.

“These tales are the creations of my sister, Miss Alicia Brinsbooke.”

Jane privately inquired to Mr. Bingley as to why he did not mention this crucial piece of information, to which he cheerfully expressed that he did not find it of any real importance. Jane tried to silently apologize to Mary for her husband's lack of understanding, but Mary was quite busy asking Mr. Brinsbooke to arrange for an opportunity to meet Miss Alicia in the least amount of time possible. It so happened that Miss Alicia had come along on the trip as well, expecting to be introduced to the wonderful young lady that her brother was meeting.

When Miss Alicia was brought in, Mary felt quite faint. Her complexion became rosy and she could no longer find anything of importance to say. When she once again recalled how to form words, Mary barraged the other young lady with a plethora of questions.

Miss Alicia was more than delighted to answer and Mary discovered that Miss Alicia began writing when she was no older than Mary herself. The pair got along very well, much to Jane's delight. It was pleasing to her that Mary had retained the amount of social skills required to gain friends. Not a moment had passed before Miss Alicia had invited Mary to visit her at her residence to discuss the topic of writing, particularly Mary's interest in partaking of the craft herself.

After the guests had been escorted from the room, Jane inquired on Mary's opinion of the Brinsbooke siblings.

"Mr. Brinsbooke was as polite and genial as a gentleman should be, but as pleasant as he appears, the knowledge that he is not truly my favorite writer makes me no longer desire to be his wife." Mary could not figure out why her response made Jane look slightly disappointed, but she continued to answer the question instead of dwelling on her sister's quizzical expressions.

"Miss Alicia, however, is a very kind young lady who has so much talent for her age, being that she is only two years older than myself. I find her to be a very promising new friend and excitedly await my visit to her estate, White Willow." Jane gave a curt nod and promptly left the room. Mary continued to daydream of her future as an aspiring author under the guidance of Miss Alicia.

 

When the time came for Mary’s first visit to the Brinsbooke estate, she spent nearly two hours prior mentally and physically preparing herself for the journey. She had made sure to wear her nicest gown and lace and tied her hair with the blue ribbon that Jane claimed brought out her eyes. Mr. Bennet was oblivious as to why Mary was so particular in the way she prepared herself. According to his perception, Mary was simply visiting a friend just like any other young lady her age. He was unaware of the importance that Miss Alicia held for Mary and her aspirations.

In the carriage ride to White Willow, Mary was delighted to discover that the Brinsbooke estate was aptly named. Large willow trees dotted the landscape and provided a refreshing difference in perspective from the typical nature found at Longbourn. The building itself was very grand, and although it was not the most impressive that Mary had ever seen (Mr. Darcy was the richest man in the county by far), the architecture struck her with a sense of wonder as though it hid some kind of magic.

She was greeted by Mr. Brinsbooke who escorted her inside the estate. The main foyer contained a large central staircase that presumably led to the upper floors. Above the main landing was a large painting of the Brinsbooke children looking much less old and much more sour. Miss Alicia was standing below the pictorial version of herself, looking quite a bit more genial.

She descended the staircase and motioned for Mary to follow her. They soon arrived in the library, which was perhaps just as large as her own, but this one most certainly contained much more interesting stories.

Miss Alicia sat down, with Mary following suit.

"Miss Mary Bennet, if we are to continue conversing, I would like to suggest that we refer to each other by our first names, as we are friends, I presume?"

Mary was quite taken aback by the suggestion.

"Miss Alicia, I can hardly be so impudent! Not only are you my senior in age, but also in your profession. How could I imply that we are of equal status?"

Miss Alicia appeared unamused.

"Preposterous! How will I be able to converse with you if we are having to keep up with formalities? I find the very idea tiresome and unappealing. You shall call me simply Alicia and I will respond to nothing else."

Despite feeling improper, Mary resolved to obey the wishes of her newfound friend. In any case, she was very ready to move on to a more interesting subject.

"Miss, pardon me, _simply_ Alicia, how did you come across your idea for _The Buccaneeress_?" Mary was a little afraid that such a personal question might surprise Alicia, but she seemed to enjoy Mary's eagerness.

"I think I wanted to create a world where women were able to be more than just a wife. It is quite a confining task that our society places on us women, don't you think? I'm sure that a man listening would think a woman such as myself not being content with her place in society as completely mad. The thought of a woman roaming the lawless ocean is such a shocking convention that I could not help but write it. Oh, but I must sound like a mad woman raving about the way things are!"

Mary was astounded yet again.

"Oh, Alicia! You do not sound mad at all! I have had such similar thoughts myself as to why we women are treated as objects to men. The freedom expressed in your books are one of the many reasons I adore them so. Your way of thinking is certainly radical, but in a strictly positive sense."

The admiration in Mary's words caused Alicia to flush and result to hiding her face in embarrassment. Mary was proud of herself for being the cause of such a sophisticated woman like Alicia's bashful behavior.

Their conversation continued, each discussion leading to more discoveries about each other. Eventually, they tired of talking and instead worked on embroidery in comfortable silence, perfectly content to enjoy the company. Between each stitch, Mary would sometimes glance up at the girl sitting across from her and recall how wonderful the rosy tint looked across her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, I kind of started to stop writing in the Jane Austen-y language. At a certain point, it just got too complicated. So now it's an amalgamation of my own style and the Regency era...
> 
> I feel like I kept using the same 20 words/phrases over and over again, sorry if it's repetitive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this horrible mess that I created.
> 
> I will try and update every month? Maybe?
> 
> Comments, Kudos, etc. are my lifeblood.
> 
> I got a tumblr: book-loving-lesbians so follow that if u want.


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